


it's just a dream

by perish



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Anne and Gilbert, F/M, Fluff, Kinda canon compliant, Mild Angst, Shirbert, Slow Burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, except there's no boarders bc fuck that i don't need that kind of stress in my life, first kiss but like not at the same time, gilbert is lowkey a horomonal teenager and bash won't stop giving him shit for it, meanwhile anne refuses to see The Truth, oh my god they're so in denial but we been knew sis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-16 22:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15447084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perish/pseuds/perish
Summary: When shoveling coal on a steamship for 8 months takes its toll, Gilbert is left feeling homesick for Avonlea. More specifically, homesick for a certain redhead.And, on the other side of the world, a certain redhead may or may not be discovering that her feeling for Gilbert might be just a bit romantical after all.





	1. Chapter 1

Shuddering creaks and the roar of the distant furnaces rang in Gilbert’s ear the moment he sat up from his sleep.

His shaky hammock swung around as he tried to regain his bearings, trying to remember where he was, who he was, and what precisely had woken him up.

For a second, everything, from the distant crash of waves to the deafening snoring of his fellow shipmates, was white noise. The answer was on the tip of his tongue, he was sure of it.

Then, the colorful aftershocks of his dreams hit him like a slate across the face.

  
He had almost kissed Anne Shirley.

Heart beating wildly, Gilbert tried to calm himself down, but the flashing images of her invaded his mind, putting out whatever unimportant thought lingered in his head.

Gilbert could feel himself blush beneath his grimy cheeks.

His father would’ve slapped him across the face for such indecent thoughts. Maybe all the vulgar sailor talk he’d heard on board had dirtied his mind more than he thought.

Breathing heavily, Gilbert tried to shake the dream from his head, but, even after almost a year, Anne still had as much of a hold on him as the day he first saw her.

Later, Gilbert blamed it on the fact that he was sleepy and homesick. Otherwise, he assured himself, he never would have let himself dwell so much on Anne.

Against his better nature, Gilbert allowed himself to go back. He allowed himself to remember her.

Memories of her sharp blue eyes looking at him with want, her unruly red hair floating around her like a fiery halo, and her soft, pink lips inches from his, just begging to be kissed.

“ _Good_ _God_ , _man_ ”, Gilbert scolded himself. “ _Pull_ _yourself_ _together_. _Anne_ _is_ _halfway_ _across_ _the_ _globe_ , _and_ _you’re_ still _having_ _dreams_ _about_ _her.”_

He lay back down in a sort of defeat.

“ _Besides_ ,” he added glumly. “ _She_ _wouldn’t_ _kiss_ _me_ _even_ if I _was_ _still_ _back_ _home_. _She’s_ _made_ _that_ _clear_ _enough_.”

And with that, Gilbert snuggled himself back into his cot as best he could, desperately trying to find his much-need sleep, but, to his great annoyance, it avoided him. He knew he would be bone-tired tomorrow and the chief would yell at him for being slow.

“This is all your fault, _Anne_ _Shirley_. _If_ _only_ _you_ _weren’t_ _so_ _distracting_ …”

Once his eyes finally drooped shut, Gilbert let himself fall back into the consciousness of his dream. Things floated in and out, random memories and images of people and places he had seen and left behind.

Until, Gilbert’s dream saw a flash of red and all his will to forget her was undone.

She was standing before him in her plain brown school dress, her crimson braids adorned with wildflowers, every bit as beautiful and free as she was.

The sun filtered through the blooming trees, catching in her eyes and turning her hair into golden fire.

She was a nymph, dancing barefoot on the forest floor, laughing and weaving through minty evergreens with an air of grace and mischief.

Like a siren from the old myths, her presence was inviting, begging him to get lost in the wild with her, to follow her to the edge of oblivion and kiss beneath the moonlight. And Gilbert, the poor fool, wanted nothing more than to do just that.

He followed her into the woods, getting hopelessly lost, but regaining his path when he saw a flurry of red dart from tree to tree.

Gilbert laughed with delight and called out her name, but, just like a mirage, her presence alluded him.

Gilbert knew it wasn’t real. The more reasonable part of his mind screamed at him to get a grip, to forget her and the rest of his old life in Avonlea.

Isn’t that what he was running from anyways?

The pain of losing his father, the boredom of living the same day every day in a small town, digging and plowing his farm like his father and his father and his father before him, forced to repeat the endless cycle of mindless work until he drew his last breath and his children were forced into the same fate.

Like his father, Gilbert felt suffocated by the thought of living a simple, poor life as a simple, poor farmer, never daring to see what was past the horizon.  
Maybe that’s what drew him to Anne.

Anne was the only thing in Avonlea that always felt new and fresh and exciting to him. Every time he caught her eye, or she flashed a smile, it was as if he was looking at her for the first time again.

She seemed the only girl in his life who was not afraid of adventure, who yearned to be more in life than just a docile housewife or whatever society expected of her. And he liked that.

  
Gilbert had heard the rumors, and the rumors of rumors of what Anne had been through, what she had seen and suffered before coming to Green Gables.

His blood boiled at just the thought of someone ever daring lay a finger on her. He didn’t know how she had survived it, how she remained her beautiful, independant self having been through hell and back, but at least he was sure of one thing:  
Anne was a free spirit, riding the wind every which way it took her.

She was resilient, having seen things that would make anyone succumb to despair, yet never losing her childlike wanderlust and optimistic outlook.

What he loved most about Anne Shirley wasn’t just her outward beauty, but her undying passion for life. She spoke and laughed and cried without remorse.

Though she had seen the worst of the world, she would not apologize to the world for feeling as she felt.

So, when Dream Anne stopped in her tracks, he did as well. When her cerulean gaze met his, he didn’t dare look away. Gilbert stepped forward, and she did too. When she smiled full of light and laughter, he did too. And when she pressed up against his chest, her freckles mapping a constellation across her pink cheeks that he just had to trace, he obliged.

And when she leaned in to kiss him, feathery eyelashes fallen shut, he didn’t panic.

“ _After all,”_ he thought to himself as her warm lips connected with his. “ _It’s_ _just_ _a_ _dream_ …”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilbert lets a couple things slip out in his sleep, and Bash gets the wrong idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> k so first of all...umm thank y'all so much for all the positivity??!! i literally never really expected for anyone to bother to read this much less like it lmao. but yeah, here's chapter 2.  
> P.S. if you got a thing for 2ndhand embarrassment or slightly suggestive content, then tread lightly. k im done enjoy

“So, who’s Anne?”

Bewildered, Gilbert’s eyes shot open from his sleep. Before he could even recognize the tall figure leaning over him, Gilbert attempted to sit up straight, but, in his confusion, violently knocked foreheads with a very surprised and pissed off Bash. Both came away cursing and holding onto their pounding heads. Groaning and rubbing his throbbing forehead, Gilbert tried to apologize, but Bash beat him to speaking.

“Good God, boy! I only asked ya a question, but if ya didn’t wanna talk, ya shoulda said so, not knock me in the face witcha fat head!”

Gilbert laughed despite the pulsing ache in his head. He was sure he could already feel a knot growing.

“Besides,” continued a coyly grinning Bash. “If ya havin’ dreams ‘bout girls like that, den ya better keep the details to yourself.”  
Now it was Bash’s turn to laugh as Gilbert felt his face go beet red with shock and embarrassment.

“W-what? How do you- i-I didn’t-?” Gilbert stuttered, trying his best to regain whatever composure he had, but it sure wasn’t working. Bash interrupted him mid-stutter.

"Woke up last night to ya talkin’ nonsense in ya sleep. Seemed possessed, ya did. Kept hollerin’ for an ‘Anne’.”

Bash could hardly keep a straight face while he talked. Gilbert wasn’t sure if he wanted more to march straight into one of the furnaces, or fling himself into the sea.  
“Listen, Bash i-it’s not like that! It’s not what you thi-”

Bash waved his hand dismissively, effectively shutting Gilbert up again.

“Eh, eh, eh!-I ain’t tryin’ ta listen to ya bad excuses, Blythe. I knows how boys ya age are, all fixed up on ladies. Sometimes, ya just got a lot a’ imagination and no girls around, and it just happens.”

Gilbert was mortified. If he hadn’t been Bash’s junior, he would’ve boxed him on the ear for speaking like that. Gilbert opened his mouth to defend himself, but no sound came out. This only seemed to confirm Bash’s judgment. He just shook his head and turned to go to work, chuckling devilishly to himself at the nature of foolish, hormonal boys.

If it was possible to turn even more red, Gilbert was sure he was. This was not how he wanted this conversation to go at all. In fact, he didn’t want to be in this conversation at all. But, there was no time to try to explain himself now, as most of the men had roused from their cots and were on their way to breakfast.

So, silently, Gilbert followed in tow with Bash, still blushing furiously and refusing to meet his eyes.

“Thanks a lot, Anne Shirley. Now the closest thing to a friend I have on this damned ship thinks I’m a creep.”

But Gilbert knew he really had no one to blame but himself. He’d let his mind wander into places it shouldn’t have, and now he was paying the price. Gilbert knew Bash well enough to know that he would be teasing him mercilessly all the way to Trinidad.  


It may have been true that it was only a kiss, but this was no ordinary kiss. Of course, Gilbert had never kissed anyone, so he had nothing to compare it to, but he knew this much: In the moments that his lips had connected with Anne’s, he felt something that he had never felt before. All those little tugs of the gut and flashes of warmth in his chest anytime Anne unintentionally met his eyes, or whenever their hands brushed (accidentally, of course). It had felt like all those little sparks of… something, had accumulated into… something else. 

God, he wished he had Anne’s was with words. That way maybe he would know the word to describe whatever he was feeling right now.

The closest he came to describe it was when Gilbert and his dad had taken their final trip out West... 

Gilbert’s throat tightened with emotion, a raw wound he had never let himself acknowledge, much less pick at, since the funeral. It hurt to talk about his father, even months after he had said his goodbyes to Avonlea and all the painful memories that lay dormant in his consciousness. Despite his blurry vision full of unshed tears, Gilbert forced himself to remember…

They had camped one night in an open field under the stars, the great expanse of Canadian wilderness before them. That night, Mr. Blythe had surprised him with a rare French delicacy: marshmallows. 

His father had taught him a special trick. They would impale the marshmallows on sticks and roast them over an open fire until they turned brown and crisp.  
Gilbert chuckled at the memory, oblivious to the tears flowing freely from his tired eyes, carving clean paths on his soot-stained face. 

He remembered he’d burned through three marshmallows before he finally got it right. When he bit into the sticky dessert, he wondered if this is what it would be like to eat every day in Heaven. It was quite toasted on the outside, nearly black from it’s over-extended time in the flames, but the inside was a gooey, sweet mess, so much it was almost sickly. That is what it felt like to kiss Anne: As if his skin was aflame, a raging blaze that seemed to consume him entirely, and yet his insides were melting into a puddle of warm, syrupy sweetness.  
Woken from his daydream by the bell that announced breakfast was over, Gilbert self-consciously wiped the last of his tears, grabbed his last spoonful of cold gruel and ran in line to get a shovel. 

With a soft smile, Gilbert became lost in his dream, shamelessly replaying the moment he’d seen Anne in his head. The day seemed to go by faster, a blur of smoke and heat and and the chief’s strong voice calling out orders. And, for Gilbert, that day had Anne.

Bash often came around every now and then to pester him, wiggling his eyebrows in a jokingly suggestive manner, but Gilbert just brushed it off with a small smile.

If teasing was the price to pay for that beautiful red-headed dream, then, hey, it was a price he was more than happy to pay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anne gets the hots 4 gilbert but is too proud to admit it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank y'all so much for all the positivity for my shitty writing n here's chaper 3

Anne started her night just like any other.  
She had a late supper with her beloved Marilla and Matthew, filling them in on her wonderful adventures in the woods that day. They indulged her rambling until Marilla scolded her that her soup was already cold and she had barely taken a spoonful.

After a (mostly) quiet dinner, Anne sat in bed and read a couple chapters of her reader. Just because the end of harvest wasn’t in another month, it didn’t mean that she should let her mind grow dull from the lack of schooling. And, in her opinion, this chapter was positively stimulating.

A magnificent poem of a dashing knight and fire-breathing dragons and a fair and beautiful princess. After an hour, when Anne caught her eyes drooping lower with fatigue, she decided she’d better get ready for bed.

No sense in forcing herself to read when it was no longer fun.

Slipping into her nightgown, she said her prayers to the ‘Gracious Heavenly Father’ and asked and thanked for much. Anne was forever grateful for her dear Diana and for the Cuthberts. She prayed for their safety and well being, as she had hear the minister say.

She also asked to overcome the colossal hinderance that was geometry. She was simply a dunce in that area of schooling, but she was sure if she only studied a bit more, she’d be top of the class in no time.

After she’d ended her prayer on a miracle for her awful red hair, Anne tucked herself into the cool sheets and waited to dream about the exquisite Princess Cordelia, running away to meet a dapper and handsome prince.

Instead, to her great annoyance, it was anything but.

She was running through the woods, a beautiful flower crown covering most of her frightful red locks. Even though she wore her plain brown dress, (even in her dreams she could never have puffed sleeves), the feeling of her bare legs brushed by the tall grass, the cool earth beneath her feet was undoubtedly liberating. The sunshine seemed to bounce off the vivid green trees above and cover the surrounding nature with an ethereal glow.

Anne waltzed through the forest floor to the songs of birds. Her feet, having a mind of their own, jumped across streams and leapt through patches of vibrant wildflowers, their powerful perfume dousing the woods with a positively scrumptious aroma.

Anne laughed freely, drinking in the beauty of the scene. She wished the sun always shone this brightly, the grass was always this dramatically green, the birds always-

Her utopian fantasy was interrupted by a deep, warm laughter that echoed hers. Anne turned, bewildered at who it could be.

Could it be my one true love, our most perfectly romantical first encounter in this enchanted forest?

  
Anne could never hope to be married, of course. She was much too homely and ugly. Plus, the girls at school had warned her that men much prefered girls who didn’t talk as much, and of such nonsense. Anne thought it just fine that men didn’t like her. She didn’t like them back. After all, the way she had heard it, being a wife left very little scope for the imagination.

  
But, just in her dreams, she had dared to hope that, maybe, someday, some foreign missionary with low standards of beauty and an intellect of her caliber would join her in a simply romantical union of equals.

Emerging from the shrubbery, came a tall mop of unruly black curls and the most irritating smirk known to mankind.

“Of course”, Anne thought miserably. “Who else could have the audacity to disturb her perfectly blissful dream but that darned Gilbert Blythe.”

He stood before her, his intense, dark eyes glinting cheerfully in the soft beams of sunlight. He seemed a bit taller than she remembered, his jaw more defined, and, even though he was dressed in rather dirty work clothes, his broad shoulders and athletic build were very much noted through the poor material.

Anne didn’t know it was possible to blush in a dream, and yet she could feel her face grow hot.

Infuriatingly, Dream Gilbert seemed to notice the nervous effect he had on her, giving her one of his trademark irksome grins.  
Even in her dreams, Gilbert couldn’t be a more vexatious headache than in real life.

Gilbert Blythe was a problem, a foul stain on her otherwise perfect paradise. And yet, she secretly thought, what a handsome problem he had turned out to be.

“Snap out of it, Anne”, She scolded herself. “This isn’t real and neither is he. He’s working on a steamer hundreds of miles away from Avonlea. He’s probably forgotten you-erm, I mean, all of us here at home, anyways.”

Anne had never been sure what to think of Gilbert Blythe.

Sure, she had thought him a bit handsome and gentlemanly when he had stood up to Billy on her behalf, but that was before she found out about ‘dibs’. Also, she had vowed to never forgive him for the “Carrots” incident last fall, and she had planned to tell him as much in that coffee shop in Charlottetown.

  
But his eyes, those stupid, hazel eyes, the way they held so much sorrow, they seemed in themselves a plea for forgiveness. Anne knew just how relieving if felt to be forgiven of one’s faults. Perhaps so, but Gilbert Blythe was still her academic arch-nemesis, or at least he would be if he ever returned…

Turns out her brain would not listen to reason no more than Dream Gilbert did. Anne opened her mouth to shoo him off, the annoying pest that he was, but her voice died in her throat as Gilbert took another step forward, his piercing gaze never faltering, leaving her rather breathless.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, Anne took an involuntary step forward as well, absolutely appalled, yet entranced by Gilbert’s boldness, the way the corners of his mouth twitched when she bit her lip nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing while he looked her with… something.

Before she knew it, they found themselves mere inches away from each other, his body radiating heat onto her own. She wanted nothing more than for him to close the gap between them, to feel his strong arms take her into a warm embrace and… and what? Kiss her?

For a small second, Anne faltered. What was she doing? She hated Gilbert Blythe and wanted nothing to do with him, didn’t she? He was the pain in her side, her cross to bear…

And yet, the way his eyes desperately searched hers, for that… something, anything that would make her stay here in this moment with him.

Anne, for the first time in her life, was absolutely at a loss for words. Anne wasn’t sure what that something was, but she decided she liked it.

So, when her innermost consciousness yelled at her to leave, wake up, forget him, Anne, who had never been the best at following directions, closed the gap. Her eyelids came shut and her lips met the warmth his. Her only consolation for having fallen to the enemy in this moment was: “At least, it’s just a dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *9/03/18  
> ok so here's the tea...  
> i decided that, since im not posting as often anymore, i just "finished" this fic once and for all. i am thinking of posting those extra chapters i deleted as another fic, but for now, this is it. thanks u all for the positivity n adios

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first ever fic on ao3 ever (as u can probably tell) so pls absolutely demolish me and nitpick every single thing i did wrong so i can improve my writing for the better, then cry about it later kk bye (i know this probably has so many grammatical errors but i don't really give a shit let's just pretend english is my first language)
> 
> *im still making small edits as i go, so don't be surprised if some sentences seem new.


End file.
